


Between A Breath And A Prayer

by call_it_a_miracle



Series: DeanCas Bingo [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel is a Sweetheart, Dean is a Softie, Dorks in Love, Drunken Confessions, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, They Keep Their Clothes On, Tiny bit of Humor, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 20:50:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15203219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_it_a_miracle/pseuds/call_it_a_miracle
Summary: Prompt: Drunken ConfessionsSet by the end of 13x22. Everyone is happy and nothing hurts :)





	Between A Breath And A Prayer

**Author's Note:**

> My first dip into real, serious smut. I'm so sorry in advance :p

Right now, life is good. 

The bunker is full, his family is safe and Dean Winchester feels unstoppable. He’s standing on the entrance to the library, his baby brother and best friend by his side as he nurses his favorite brand of ice cold beer. Bobby had been quick to suggest pulling out the whiskey, having most of the new guests cheering on, but the eldest brother politely declined. It’s not very often he feels even a hint of warmth in his chest and he wants to enjoy it soberly. It’s days like this when he is grateful of his high tolerance. 

“I can’t believe this is real” Sam says loudly over the sounds of people talking and laughing. 

Dean’s cheeks ache but he can’t bring himself to stop smiling. “Me neither, man” 

Sam pats his shoulder before walking off towards Rowena who sat by the war table happily listening to Charlie speak. 

Dean feels Castiel leaning slightly into his space. The hunter unconsciously relaxes a bit more, always feeling overwhelmingly safe whenever the angel is around, home. 

“I don’t think i’ve ever seen you and Sam smile this much” He says, sporting a nice little smile of his own. 

Dean turns to him and a wave of warmth immediately washes over his chest. Cas’ eyes are so bright under the warm yellow lights of the bunker. The smile on his lips so rare yet so beautiful it should be immortalized in a renaissance portrait. A faint blush settles subtibly on his cheeks and really, Dean can’t seem to find his breath. 

Maybe he should take Bobby on that whiskey after all. 

“I’m getting a real drink. You want one?” He asks, letting his eyes commit the angel’s face to memory for a few more seconds. 

“No, thank you” Cas declines, waving his still half-full beer bottle in front of him. 

Dean nodded, taking off to find Bobby talking to none other than his mom. 

“Hey Bobby, mom. You got some of that fine whiskey for me?” 

Bobby smiles and Dean notices the way he leans against the war table. 

“Sure thing, son” The older man talks with a heavy slur. He makes a move to reach the bottle resting in front of him but fails to grasp it. 

“Woah, i don’t think i ever saw you this hammered before. Ever” Dean says, taking the bottle himself. 

“Well thas’ what happens when you get trapped ‘n the ‘pocalypse an’ barely get ‘nuff to get by” Bobby says, smiling brightly. 

“Ok, i think it’s time for you to get some rest” Dean says, taking the empty glass from the man’s hand. 

“You an’ me both, kid” 

“I’ll take him to one of the rooms” Mary says, smiling brightly at her son. 

Dean nods, filling his own glass with whiskey and immediately taking a few sips. Once it’s empty, the hunter refills it before making his way back to the library entrance. He looks around until he finally finds Cas sitting next to Jack on the floor. He debates whether he should join them or go find Sam somewhere but just as he’s turning around he catches the kid’s eyes. The sharp sadness in them has him downing half his glass in one go before taking a seat next to Jack. 

“Hey, guys. Everything alright?” He says, nudging Jack’s side with his shoulder. 

“Not really” Jack says, but before Dean can ask, the kid is standing up. “I think i’ll go sleep in my room. Goodnight Dean, Cas” and with that Jack walks off. 

“Should we follow him?” Dean asks, keeping his eyes glued to Jack’s back. 

Cas sighs, leaning back against the wall. “No, i think he needs some time alone”

“That bad?” he takes another sip of whiskey, reveling on the warmth of the alcohol as it runs down his throat leaving a pleasant burn behind. 

“The things he must’ve seen in that world...” Cas says, taking his own sip of beer. 

“Shit” Dean says, looking down as Jack’s back disappears from view into the hallways. “It’s all my fault” 

Cas frowns, turning to him. “It’s not” 

“It is” he insists. “He shouldn’t have been there by himself in the first place” 

People start yawning around them, being led down the long hallways into the bedrooms by Sam and Mary. Dean starts standing up, ready to leave this conversation and help their new guests settle but Sam throws him a sharp look. _We got this. It’s ok_. Something in his little brother’s eyes has him sighing and settling back on the floor next to Cas. This time, though, he miscalculates the space and ends up practically pressed up against the angel. Mortified, he freezes for a few seconds. 

The angel doesn’t seem to mind, though. _Fuck it_. Dean relaxes back against the wall, praying to every single god not to let Cas notice the way a faint blush settles high on his cheeks or the way his heart threatens to jump off his chest. 

“It’s not your fault he can’t get a full grasp of his powers, yet” Cas keeps talking, ignoring Dean’s internal freak out. “The only thing that matters now is helping him, talking to him” 

The angel takes a long gulp of beer and for a second Dean thinks he’s going to chug the whole thing, but Cas is mindful enough to leave a few court sips. 

“Do you ever get tired of being so wise, man?” Dean blurts out. He can’t help it. The way Cas speaks… this ancient being that crossed paths with him and somehow became the best friend he’s ever had is sitting right next to him telling him what Dean knows is the pure, unadulterated truth. Whether or not he can accept it, that’s another thing for another day. For now he just sits there, his internal freak out intensifying. 

Cas huffs out a humorless laugh, staring at a spot on the floor before him. “Dean, you of all people should know i’m nowhere near wise” 

Dean rolls his eyes, staring at the angel’s profile. “Bullshit. Cas, you’re an angel. You’ve lived through Hell knows how much. ‘Course there’s some wiseness in there, somewhere” 

Cas’ tight lipped smile twitches. “You’re intoxicated” 

“Pfff a couple beers an’ whiskey ain’t got nothing on me. Being a barely-functioning alcoholic has its perks” Dean smirks, taking another sip of whiskey to rub his point in. 

Cas’ smile twitches again as he turns to face the hunter. “You think so little of yourself, i wish you could see yourself the way i see you” 

The words leave Dean’s throat dry. He awkwardly clears it as he tries to keep his heart under control. “I could say the same thing, bud” 

There’s a brief silence between them. The place is empty, but the echo of footsteps on the hallways remains. Dean looks away from Cas in favor of letting his eyes roam around the place. Glasses litter every surface available and pieces of paper somehow found their way to the floor. Dean makes a mental note to have a talk with everyone about keeping the place clean.

“We really are a couple of dumbasses” Cas finally says. 

Dean breathes out a laugh. “Yeah, we are” 

“You should go rest, Dean. It’s been a long few days” Cas says, taking the last sip of beer. 

Dean follows shortly after. “I don’t know, man. Don’t think i’ll be able to sleep with all these… things” He gestures widely at his head and chest, hoping the angel gets it. 

And of course Cas gets it. He smiles, returning his gaze towards the wall in front of them. 

“I understand. It’s… a lot” 

“Understatement” Dean carefully places his glass next to him, choosing to clasp his hands on his lap. He stretches his legs in front of him, moving his sore ankles in circles. All that walking in the AU is gonna bite him in the ass. 

He loses himself thinking about the general situation, not noticing when his foot occasionally nudged Cas’ until Cas decides to nudge him back. Dean blinks a couple times, locking his eyes to where their feet sit mere inches away from each other. He stops all movement and Cas reaches out to nudge him again, harder. 

_Oh, this is war_.

Dean smirks as he returns the nudge slightly harder, making their knees meet in a soft brush. Castiel doesn’t let go, though, returning the nudge with the same amount of force as their knees and hips find themselves permanently brushing against each other. 

Dean turns to him, taking the empty beer bottle from his hand and setting it next to his own empty whiskey glass before poking the angel’s side. Cas, of course, doesn’t even flinch, immediately reaching out to poke the hunter back. 

And that is how both men find themselves giggling and relentlessly poking each other. After a few minutes of relentless squirming Dean finds himself gasping for breath, cursing at the angel for being, well, an angel. He looks up at Cas’ face and freezes, again. 

Their faces are only inches apart, blushing and sporting the biggest grins either of them has seen on the other. Cas’ eyes are warm, and happy, and Dean would sell his soul all over again just to keep them that way. He doesn't even flinch at the thought because he knows that those same eyes would save him, and really, what else could he ever ask for?

“Dean” Cas whispers, his breath hitting Dean in the face like a kick to the teeth. The angel smells… fresh. Like recently cut grass, a rainy day on a remote beach, clean ozone. It’s overwhelming and the hunter doesn’t know what to do. 

“Cas” he says, and it comes so close to a whimper it hurts. 

Tentatively, their hands move in unison. The world around them blurs to nothingness, leaving no place for distractions from the other. Palms connect with jaws and in between a breath and a prayer, their lips meet. 

Dean is floating. Nothing exists but their lips and for the hunter who was drilled into always paying attention to his surroundings, he couldn’t care less. He has everything, _everything_ , right here.

Cas’ lips are soft, slightly chapped but oh so soft. His slight stubble rubs on Dean’s palm as his fingers brush soft locks of dark hair. He doesn’t want to give this up, ever, but his lungs start burning with the need for a breathing. He can feel his already light head get lighter, and finds himself more than ready to die like this. But the hand against his own jaw pushes him away lightly, thumb rubbing his cheekbone in comfort. 

It takes Dean a couple seconds of deep breathing to finally open his eyes. The eyes he’d sold his soul for before paled to the beauty of these new eyes he meets. 

No, not new, just hidden from him before. 

“Dean” 

And it’s Castiel’s deep, raspy voice that has him jumping from his place on the floor to settle over the angel’s thighs. He takes a firm grip of his coat lapels before roughly connecting their lips again. 

He can’t speak right now, can’t let the world around them be aware of them, so he _prays_. He prays for Cas, all of him, and the angel _listens_. 

He listens to the man’s desperate confessions, his happiness and his fears, and gives himself to him. He gives and gives, brushing his tongue against Dean’s bottom lip. 

The groan that leaves Dean immediately becomes the angel’s favorite sound, making it his life mission to get to listen to it as often as possible. He plunges his tongue into Dean’s willing mouth, exploring every single inch and taking all the unspoken words between them. 

If Cas’ ozone smell was overwhelming for Dean before, his taste is agonizingly, painfully good. The angel tastes like cinnamon and honey and Dean is _gone_. His whole being vibrates with want and need. When he finally finds enough brain cells to process what is happening, he feels both his and Cas’ hard lengths rubbing against each other, still nestled inside their pants. When his ears finally decide to start working again he can’t tell whose groans are who’s, but as with everything else, he can’t bring himself to care. 

Castiel’s hands are gripping Dean tightly, one hand on the man’s waist and the other one on his back, prompting him to get closer. He arches his back as much as he can, allowing Dean to reach a new, better angle. There’s no space left between them as they rub against the other, their lips only breaking contact for desperate ghasping breaths. 

The feelings escalate, leaving both of them begging the other. 

_Please, Cas. Give it to me_.

Cas’ hand on his waist grips even tighter, and the warmth in his groin intensifies at the thought of bruises in the form of fingertips forming there. Dean bucks his hips harder, and as he realizes his hands are on the man’s hair he _pulls_.

The world stops turning as their orgasms tear through them. It becomes the most intense thing either of them has ever experienced. It’s all tears and gasping breaths by the time the wave goes down to tolerable levels. Their foreheads connect as the prayers die down to a content buzz. 

“I love you” Castiel finds himself blurting out between panting breaths. 

Normally, Dean would be back to freaking out, clearing his throat awkwardly and making a lame excuse to hightail it outta there. But this time, he looks into those beautiful blue eyes and says the words he hasn’t spoken in a very, very long time. 

“I love you too” 

Right now, life is good.


End file.
